


We Must Not Look At Goblin Men, We Must Not Buy Their Fruits.

by hairdye_silverfindings



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bofur and Fili bein real cute, Brothers, Demons, F/M, Fairies, Family, Fight the Fairies!, Hunter AU, Is it just me or does it seem like the End of the World?, M/M, Of course it's not UFOs, Oh nothing just the End of the World, Oin's got a thing about walnuts, Seelie and Unseelie Fey Courts, The Durins stress me out, Thorin being Thorin, Vampires, Walnuts, Wargs, field medicine, oh my!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-18
Updated: 2014-08-23
Packaged: 2018-01-07 11:55:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1119532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hairdye_silverfindings/pseuds/hairdye_silverfindings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Durin Family has a different kind of family business. They kill things content with killing humans. They aren't thanked, they aren't even acknowledged, but knowing that at least one kid will survive the night is enough. They look out for one another, and do not morn but fight when one is killed. But there is something wrong in the world, something's changed, shifted, whispers of a nameless fear have begun to grow.</p>
<p>When Kili, the youngest of the direct line, is injured and stolen away to the Court of Lord Thranduil, is Fili strong enough to rescue him and help save their world? Will a budding romance keep his brother locked Under the Hill forever? Will their uncle even listen?</p>
<p>Will it be the end of the world? Or just the end of an age?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. All of the Ghouls Come Out to Play

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Only Break What's Yours](https://archiveofourown.org/works/737667) by [Meddalarksen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meddalarksen/pseuds/Meddalarksen), [victoriousscarf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/victoriousscarf/pseuds/victoriousscarf). 



> Okay guys, here we are again, at the beginning of yet another quest of sorts. If you've been fantastic enough to open up this story despite the horrible summary, then thank you, and I hope you enjoy it. I've always loved the idea of the Durins being like hunters and the like, and what's cooler then fairies? Not a lot, I promise. So then this thing just kind of happened. 
> 
> I'd like to thank Meddalarksen and victoriousscarf for writing that really awesome vampire hunter piece, Only Break What's Yours, which was a major inspiration for this. If you haven't read it you should, it's really quite a good deal of fun. 
> 
> Also, I tried to beta this myself, and I think all of the majorly bad errors are out, but apologies if there are any.

“What are yah doin’?”

Fíli turned, his arm out stretched, a book in hand. Bofur stood at the door to the library, two mugs of tea in his hand. Fíli pushed the book he was shelving into its place and reached down the fix the hem of his shirt that had ridden up.

“I’m moving the books ever so slightly to the left.” He answered, grabbing up another book from the stack in his arms. Bofur chortled and grinned. Fíli grinned back. “Mum has me reshelving books.”

“As I can see.” Bofur said. “What I meant was, what are yah doin’ standin’ on that thing?” Fíli glanced down at the rickety chair he’d pulled over to service as a ladder. “Are yah too lazy to get the ladder, or is it not dangerous enough for yah as is?”

“I live for danger, Bofur.” Fíli said looking at the spine of one book. “The tea isn’t for me is it?” He glanced over his shoulder.

“Why else would I have two mugs of tea?” Bofur said. “If yah come down yah came have it.”

“You can’t throw it to me?” Fíli suggested. “I could catch it.” Bofur looked between the books in Fíli’s hands.

“I don’t doubt it.” He said. “But if yah don’t come down then yah don’t get the other thing I brought yah.” Fíli raised his eyebrows and shelved the book in his hand quickly before climbing down and setting the rest on the table. The library was a fairly small room, but every wall was covered in shelves housing an ever growing family collection. Most the newer books had been absconded from the library under false names, and still others had been bought or found, very few passed on from Fíli’s grandfather. Apparently, hunters didn’t have to know much about monsters to kill them back then.

Fíli jumped down from the chair, careful not to kick over the stacks of books around his feet, and crossed to Bofur, taking the tea from him gratefully. As he drank he hummed his appreciation and grinned.

“Perfect.” He said as he took the cup away from his mouth. “At least someone in this house can make a satisfying cup of tea. It seems incredibly hard for most of this household, but I mean, how hard could it be? It’s fucking leaves in water.”

“Don’t yah let Ori hear yah say that.” Bofur grinned and winked. Fíli grinned and put his tea down, putting his hands quickly into Bofur’s sweater.

“Do I get the other thing now?” He asked, excitement lighting up his eyes. Bofur nodded leaning forward, pressing his lips to Fíli’s a little more forcefully then appropriate for public display. As he leaned back Fíli followed him, his lips still slightly puckered.

“No, come back, I’m not done yet.” Fíli said, barely opening his lips, eyes closed. Bofur laughed and pulled Fíli’s hands out of his sweater, telling him he had work to do.

“I don’t _want_ to shelve fucking books anymore.” Fíli said, turning from Bofur, the slightest whine penetrating his voice. He grabbed up a stack and turned them to look at their spines, reading the homemade library tags that corresponded to the homegrown system of organization. “This should be Dori’s job; he’s so obsessed with where all these things go anyway.”

“I’m sure that one day yah’ll be quite happy that yah know where all the books on…” Bofur lifted a book and squinted at the spine. “ _The Quintessential Guide to Cooking Raw Dwarf_ … Why does yer family own this?” Fíli glanced over, his stop atop the chair resumed.

“I was just looking for that, actually.” He said. “I got a bit of raw dwarf from the market and really needed to know what to do with it.” He rolled his eyes and went back to shelving “Who fucking knows. Do me a favor though, and put that in the cookbooks section, right over there yeah.” Fíli said gesturing, keeping his eyes trained on the books in his arms. Bofur nodded and wondered off to find the cook books.

“What had yah shelvin’ books any who?” Bofur said and he heard Fíli sigh.

“Remember that hunt I went on with Nori and Gimli?” Fíli said. “Well, we ended up in a vampire bar, and keep in mind I had everything under control, but I got a bit separated from the rest of the group, and Nori found me with fangs against my neck… I staked the bitch, but it didn’t stop my mum from getting antsy.” Bofur had stopped his search and turned to look at the younger.

“Yah had a vamp’s _fangs_ at yer neck?” Bofur asked, his eyebrows shooting up, disbelief and fear thick in his throat. “Fíli, what in Mahal’s name were you _thinkin’_?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Fíli sighed, resting his head on his arm. “You’re starting to sound like my mum.”

“If only because I _care_ about yah, lad.” Bofur crossed and tugged on Fíli’s free hand. “Don’t yah go doin’ things like that.” Fíli smiled as Bofur brought Fíli’s hand to his mouth, kissing his palm lightly. Fíli curled his fingers against Bofur’s cheek.

“I’ll try.”

They were interrupted by the sudden banging of the door, and a rush of voices filling the foyer. Fíli slammed his books down on the table and rushed to the door, Bofur behind him. The rest of the house had slowly come out of their various rooms as well, the kitchen door occupied by Ori and Bombur, allowing them ample visage of the event at the door without putting them into the line of fire; Nori, Gimli and Bifur were at the bottom of the stairs, craning their heads to see over each other, while others were arriving from other places in the house. Dwalin was bloody and stained, Dori as well, crowding around someone who’d been lowered on to the closest table, its contents spilled onto the floor, ink staining the carpet, papers winkled and destroyed. Oin was there, of course, and Fíli’s mother, her arms covered in flour from the bread she’d left in the kitchen, hands cradling a dark head. Fíli pushed past Balin and Gloin, heart nearly in his throat.

“What happened?” He demanded, meeting his mother’s eyes over the stiff body of his brother, laying against the hard wood of the table, writhing in some unknown pain.

“I’m fine, I swear.” Kíli managed to grind out. His brother’s hands were bloody; his cloths were as well even though Fíli couldn’t see any visible wounds. “It’s just a scratch.”

“Far from,” Dwalin said.

“What happened?” Dis asked looking up from her son as Oin’s fingers prodded the flesh against Kíli’s neck. Kíli hissed and gritted his teeth together. Fíli grabbed his brother’s free hand, squeezing it for reassurance.

“Ori,” Oin called. “Fetch me the rose bark, comfrey leaf, barberry… And the geranium oil just to be safe. Oh and Ori, don’t forget to bring me the walnut oil.” Fíli mentally tried to assign the herbs to their medical properties, rose to stop the bleeding, comfrey to topically treat lacerations, barberry to kill infection, geranium to stop excessive bleeding and hemorrhaging. Walnuts on the other hand, Fíli had no idea why Oin insisted upon them, but he was convinced that they were good for everything and used them in almost everything. Ori brought the requested materials along with a bowl of water and clean bandages in their sterile packets. Oin quickly pulled a pair of latex-free gloves on, one less thing to increase the risk of infection. Fíli remembered dimly the day they’d found out his brother was allergic to latex.

“Everything was normal,” Dwalin said, his think arms crossed looking casual, expect for the tightness in his jaw and shoulders, his eyes never leaving the boy on the table. “We were investigating the disappearances around the old hotel by the docks,” Kíli cried out as Oin revealed a leaking gash across his collar bone. Dwalin winced and Dori turned away, unable to watch one of their youngest in pain.

“And…” Dwalin swallowed. “We were ambushed by a pack of goblins on one of the upper floors of the hotel. We fought them off but when we turned around, Kíli was missing. A redcap must have jumped out and grabbed him up we weren’t looking. We found him curled in the dust at its feet. I’m sorry Dis.”

“But… but they didn’t, they didn’t _mark_ him, right?” Dis asked looking anxiously at Dwalin. Fíli trained his gaze upon the older man as well, his brother squeezing his fingers against some new pain. Oin dosed a rag in cinnamon and clove oil and dapped it quickly around the wounds, grabbing Fíli’s hand after to hold a bandage with rose bark in it in place. _The cinnamon and clove is topical treatment for the pain,_ Fíli’s mind told him, _but clove can be toxic, so you have to be careful not to get it in the wound,_ but he thought that he brother could use some good old morphine in reality.

“We… We cannot be sure. He was gone for a good long while.” Dwalin looked down and then back at Dis “It would make no sense, Dis. They only go after firstborn sons; we know that to be a fact.”

“And besides, it isn’t like Kíli was unprotected. He had bells and red ribbon and iron.” Dori put in, trying to be helpful. Fíli looked back to his brother, whose lips were pale and thin.

“I feel cold,” He whispered, Oin’s hands working quickly at the gashes in his skin, mending and cleaning.

“You’re gonna be okay.” Fíli whispered back squeezing his brother’s hand. “He’d gonna be okay right?” Oin looked at Fíli, worried grey eyes and bloody hands.

“He should be.” Oin replied, pushing his glasses farther up his nose. Fíli nodded and glanced to his brother again. The rest of the house had remained, poised on in their quiet positions until now, when the door opened once more, and Thorin stepped through, onto the rug just inside. His short hair was dusted with snow from outside, and his boots were muddy on the bottoms. He glanced up, halfway through taking his jacket off, looking from one face to the other. Dis rushed forward, leaving her son, to grab her brother’s arm, quickly telling him everything was just perfectly all right.

“Who is it?” Kíli asked, looking at his brother. Fíli knelt down, so he was face to face with Kíli. He glanced to the door.

“It’s Uncle.” He said, squeezing the hand in his. “It’s going to be alright. Uncle’s here.” Ori offered Kíli a small smile,

“What has happened?” Thorin demanded over her desperate affirmations. “I said what has happened.”

“It’s Kíli, Thorin.” Dwalin murmured, crossing to the other. “He was attacked.”

“ _Kíli? Attacked_? Attacked by what?” He said pushing past his sister.

“A… A redcap…” Dis murmured. “They were ambushed by all sorts of Unseelie folk, they couldn’t do anything.” Thorin stood over the table, his face twisted up in concern, the smallest touches of fear around his eyes. Thorin turned from the table, to face his sister and his friend.

“Did they—”

“We don’t think so.” Dwalin said lowly. “But you know how little their Lord cares for tradition. He could have requested a new pet for all we know.”

“Or it could have been a random act of violence.” Dis anxiously put in, her arms crossed over her chest, one hand absently rubbing her mouth. Fíli had seen the gesture before, when his mother was thinking hard about something. “We cannot know for sure that they’re intent was anything but malice, brother.”

“That is not a chance I am willing to take.” Thorin said barely above a whisper, crossing quickly to his nephew’s side, across from where Fíli was kneeling. Thorin offered Fíli and then Kíli a light twitch of his lips, examining the wounds for himself. “Will he survive?”

“In all probability, yes.” Oin nodded, as Ori busily cut lengths of medical tape for him, glancing nervously between everyone.

“Good. See to it that he does. You’re a very brave man, Kíli” Thorin nodded, running his hand over Kíli’s forehead before turning to make his way up the stairs. “Dwalin, Dori, I would like to see you in my office. Oin if he needs a hospital you take him.” Oin snorted and rolled his eyes as he finished dressing Kíli’s wounds, muttering under his breath about the uselessness of modern doctors. Fíli grinned and squeezed his brother’s hand again. Kíli smiled back, letting his head lull, as the danger passed over him. Fíli felt a hand on his shoulder, and he looked up to see Bofur standing above him, smiling to reassure him. Fíli put his other hand over Bofur’s and when Oin was done dressing and cleaning his brother’s wounds, Fíli helped him up the stairs and to their shared room.

Fíli left Kíli, with Oin and their mother at his side, propped up on pillows, somewhere between sleep and waking, closing their door quietly, before turning and heading down the long hall, heading toward the kitchen. As he walked, his hand shoved deep into the pockets of his hoodie, the house was measurably silent, more so then it normally was, as if the house had hushed itself to help his brother breathe. Fíli could hear voices from his uncle’s study, and he headed there instantly, if only to listen at the door. He wondered if his uncle would include him in the conversation they were no doubt having about his brother, or if he would be sent out to the gardens or the kitchen.

Fíli leaned against the wall, turning his head so he could hear what was going on inside the study better, gingerly, to make sure he didn’t fall into the room or leaned too heavily and cause some squeaky floorboard to alert his uncle to his presence.

“…the werewolves and now this?” It was Dori, unmistakably, and Fíli was surprised at how fussy he sounded even now. “What is next, Thorin? The monsters are becoming more and more… Dangerous really. They aren’t _afraid_ of us anymore.”

“It’s true.” Dwalin said and it sounded like he’d stood or taken his weight off of something, by the way the floor creaked. “There are vampires coming out in the day, and werewolves attacking out of the lunar cycle. Shifters blatantly replacing loved ones, even the demons are swapping meatsuits like it’s a goddamn holiday or something. I’ve even heard word of _warg_ sightings, Thorin.” Fíli could hear his uncle sigh, and the sound of a chair being pulled out.

“There has to be a reason.” Thorin murmured, barely loud enough for Fíli to hear and he leaned forward ever so slightly. “These things are just that, they’re things. They don’t just suddenly get unnecessarily _plucky_. They’re animal at best, and mindless killing machines at worse. They must be something causing it.” He sighed again. “Fíli, I can hear you at the door. Come in, boy.” Fíli swallowed and pushed the door open, stepping through it.

His uncle’s study was a long room, with peeling red wallpaper like most of the house, and big windows that looked out over their estate’s green fields. The windows let in plenty of light, but the room was lit by flickering bulbs and candles when it was night, wax dripping onto the tables and book shelves. The room was neat and organized, like his uncle’s bedroom, everything cleanly put away in its proper places, except for the writing desk which was littered with a few open books, letters and paper. Against one wall was a microscope and chemistry set, but Fíli had never seen his uncle use them, and there was considerably dust coating them now. Most of the room was taken over by books, and not just books that pertained to their profession. There was a good collection of recreational reading as well, although it had probably been years since Thorin had had the time to read purely for fun.

“How is your brother?” Thorin asked and Fíli shrugged reaching out to touch a counter weighted pendulum, making it swing.

“He’s breathing. Mum is with him right now.” Fíli said and looked up. His uncle sat at his desk, Dwalin and Dori standing in front of it. “Will he be okay?”

“I think that a question better suit for Oin.” Thorin said.

“No I mean like…” Fíli trailed off and looked between the three. “Concerning the fey.” Thorin sighed and shrugged.

“We don’t know.” He answered. There was a fireplace behind him, though it lacked a fire. “We were discussing that. There isn’t anything we can do tonight. We have to wait and see if something comes for him, I suppose.” Thorin sighed again and stood, pushing his chair back. “If nothing comes of it then we treat the incident as something isolated, a coincidence.”

“And if something does come of it?” Dwalin asked. “If something creeps up in the night and steals the boy?”

“Then we fight.” Thorin said. “We need to double any patrols we already have, and make sure to keep civilians away from that hotel. I’ll lead a team to investigate the werewolf attacks in town,” Fíli perked up and his uncle noticed. “Fíli, you take Bofur, Balin, and Nori out tonight and report to the Glen, watch for any signs of fey activity.” Fíli nodded and Thorin returned the gesture. “Dwalin I want you and Dori to head back to the hotel with Bifur and Gloin tomorrow, from now on we move in packs of fours, I don’t want anyone left without a partner.” Thorin nodded and dismissed them from his office. Fíli followed behind Dori, pleased that he had been given his own patrol, even if Balin would end up taking control while they were in the field. As he left he heard Dwalin and Thorin talking lowly.

“What of the reports we’ve been getting about Azog?” Dwalin said, so low that Fíli almost didn’t hear him. Fíli glanced back and caught his uncle’s eyes.

“Reports.” Thorin whispered back, keeping his nephew’s gaze. “Nothing more. Go get cleaned up.” Fíli turned away, rushing down the hall, grinning when he spotted Bofur at the end of it, leaning against a doorway.

“Was that what I think?” Bofur asked grabbing Fíli’s hand as the boy started down the stairs toward the kitchen.

“I dunno, what do you think it was?” Fíli asked. He intended to stay out of Oin’s way while the man healed his brother, and besides, Kíli had their mother there. Sitting next to the bed worrying wasn’t going to help anyone, Fíli needed to be out _doing something_ and a patrol was the best thing he could be doing. Sweet nothings weren’t what helped hunters; it was blood, revenge, booze and curse breaking.

“Young Fíli finally afforded the respect his uncle should give him?” Bofur said as they crossed into the kitchen, dropping each other’s hands. Bombur stood at the stove, cooking in a big wok, something that smelled sweet and vinegary. He nodded to the pair as they walked in and headed toward the kitchen table were Ori and Gimli sat, playing chess.

“My own patrol.” Fíli said, grinning, the rest of the kitchen smiling with him. Bombur congratulated him and patted him on the back.

“Fantastic!” Bofur grinned, stealing something to eat out of his brother’s wok. “It’s about time.”

“A patrol where?” Ori asked as Fíli sat down and Bombur put a beer on the table in front of him.

“The Glen.” Fíli told Ori.

“To celebrate.” He said, cracking his own open, his brother settling down in the chair next to Fíli, licking his fingers. “And a wish that your brother gets better.” Fíli lifted the beer up and clinked it together with Bombur’s. Bombur returned to the stove, sipping his beer, while Fíli kicked his feet up onto the chair across from him and watched Gimli lose at chess.

“Who are yah supposed to take out?” Bofur asked and it startled Fíli for a moment, before he realized Bofur was talking about the patrol. Fíli glanced to Bofur and he could feel a heat in his cheeks. He didn’t know how his uncle was so blatantly unaware that were was something between them when the rest of the house seemed acutely aware, but he supposed that maybe Thorin was ignoring it, hoping that it would go away eventually.

“You,” Fíli said. Maybe Thorin wasn’t unaware. He certainly knew that the pair of them fought better together then when they were separated. “You and Balin and Nori.” Ori snorted and glanced up.

“Good luck with that one.” He said. “I saw him wondering up the stairs a little bit ago with one of his speed dial hookers.” Fíli groaned and leaned back against his chair. He watched Ori take Gimli’s knight and bishop in succession, while Bombur poured most of his beer into whatever he was cooking and seemed satisfied with the results. Bofur reached over and squeezed Fíli’s hand. Fíli squeezed it back.

“I’m going to go check on my brother,” Fíli announced standing and draining his beer. “And then I’m going to get Nori into clothing. I’ll meet you in the foyer in thirty?” Bofur nodded and watched Fíli walk out of the room and turn to mount the stairs. He sighed and leaned back in his chair.

“You’re like a girl.” Ori said and Bofur raised an eyebrow at him. Gimli was staring intently at the board, trying to find Ori’s ‘check’ so he could block it.

“Excuse me?” Bofur said. He was dressing in his customary green sweater and dirty jeans and his short dark hair stuck up in funny angles. “What are yah goin’ off about now?”

Ori shrugged and proceeded to take Gimli’s spare knight. “Check, again.” Bofur scolded at the younger boy and stood, stretching.

“I guess I’ll miss dinner tonight,” Bofur said to his brother as he went to leave the room. “Save some for me?” Bombur nodded and Bofur was almost certain there wouldn’t be any food waiting for him.

*

It was one a Grand Place, of starlight and revelry, but now the Court had turned dreary and dank, like the color had been sucked from it. Great silver waterfalls trickling their way through great and beautiful root walkways had turned to grimy oozing things that dripped and made the stones slimy. The enchanting passages and networks of winding walkways had once been lit with amber light, but now only small chances of moonlight lit them, and it wasn’t the brilliant starlight that was remembered, it was dirty light from the city over head. When once there was the delightful sound of music tempering through the halls, there was scratching now, and the patter of tiny evil feet. It was not the same as it had been, nor would it be the same ever again.

She missed the music and the starlight; she missed the beauty that used to be. The nostalgia of the old ways brought a tightness to her chest and she wondered if the pain would ever ease. But she moved about their dark home and kept her memories to herself, even when asked by other with the same weight on them as she. She was Captain of the Guard; she wasn’t _allowed_ to speak of her King in anyway other than admirably.

“Tauriel!”

She turns, gently on her heel, watching the prince bound up the walkway toward her, trying hard to avoid goblins scrapping on the path.

“Legolas.” She smiled and swept herself into a graceful bow. As she straightened he smiled and put his hand behind his back, inclining his head to her.

“My father wishes to see you.” He said simply and motioned for her to follow him back the way he had come. Tauriel inclined her head to him and passed him easily, sidestepping the goblins on the path. She hated the goblins, nasty runty creatures born without teeth and forced to substitute them with birds’ talons, fangs, glass and sharpened bit of wood. With a detestable look she kicked one, sending it off the edge of the path, clinging to the side of the root with gorging claws. Legolas laughed quietly to himself from behind Tauriel.

“Your distaste for those creatures is a constant amusement for me.” He said, sidling up to walk alongside her. Tauriel let a smile slip.

“They do disgust me.” She said. “And they are worth nothing in battle. Roving pigs could do more damage. They are nothing like the mountain goblins of old.” Legolas nodded.

“A good thing, those creatures truly are disgusting.” He said and they fell silent again. There was an ever present scratching echoing in the caverns of the Court, and it was worse than silence to Tauriel. She did not know where the noise came from, and it scared her. She had many of her guards secretly assigned to the task of discovering the source of the noise, but as of yet they had come back with nothing but empty reports.

“Do you know why your father has summoned me?” Tauriel asked suddenly, just as Legolas had opened his mouth. He closed it and glanced to the path before looking up and answering with a sigh.

“I think it is about the coming moons.” He admitted. Tauriel let out a frustrated breath and almost turned on her heel to turn back, but refrained and kept walking, clenching her fists at her sides.

“Of course it is.” She hissed, turning to glare at Legolas.

“Look not upon me like that!” He said, offering his hands to her in surrender. “I am no more pleased then you, trust me.” He voice dropped low and Tauriel knew he tells the truth. When his father announced his plan to return the Realm to its former glory, Tauriel and Legolas had taken the announcement with surprised dignity, but a fortnight later in Tauriel’s chambers – as close to the stars as she could get – Legolas came to her and confessed that he did not want to spend all of eternity with her. In fact, he could barely bring himself to think of kissing her, for his desires did not lay in the beds of women.

“This was all his fault.” Tauriel hissed as they passed through an archway with rotting water running down its sides. “He did this to us.” She gestured to the air and Legolas ducked his head when a pair of huldras looked to them. Tauriel dropped her head as well, if only because she shouldn’t speak out against her King. The huldras raised delicately shaped eyebrows and turned their backs, exposing rotting wood and cobwebs instead of pale skin. They looked almost identical to the elves roaming the halls, long brilliant hair, delicate features, except for their tails and their evil eyes.

“And he is trying his hardest to fix what he has broken.” Legolas said, inclining his head to elves that bowed and moved from their path. “You cannot damn him for that.”

“Oh yes I can.” Tauriel said, “I can damn him for thinking that he can use _me_ to fix it.”

“He intends to use me as well.” Legolas reminded her. He seemed nowhere near as angry as Tauriel with their King’s decision, just unhappily resigned to their fate. Tauriel ground her teeth and kept quiet as they approached the throne room, the center of all the palace. Before, it would have been bathed in warm light and clear air that seemed to glitter, but it was just as dank as the rest of the halls, with dark shadows that moved and twisted like animals. Their King was seated in his great throne, with a crown of dead leaves and twisted twigs.

“Legolas, Tauriel.” He said and his lips barely moved. He turned to look at them, and the gruesome scars on his face twisted as he smiled. “Hello.”

“My Lord,” Tauriel said and bowed again, “You summoned me.”

“I did.” He nodded and Legolas moved to stand below his father’s throne, as was generally his place.

“This is a very flattering guise for you, Ada,” Legolas said and Thranduil’s head twisted to face his son. Thranduil smiled dreadfully again.

“Thank you, son.” He sneered and turned back to Tauriel. “Tauriel. I find myself in need of a cell.”

“A cell?” She asked. “A prison cell?”

“Something more… comfortable.” Thranduil said thoughtfully. “I am also in need of a pair of your best retrievers.” Tauriel’s brow furrowed. The retrievers were dark shadowy shape shifter with sharp nails and clever hands that moved from place to place. She was in charge of them, and they were just one more thing in this new Court that she hated.

“I am sorry, My Lord, but I do not understand.” She said, inclining her head with honor. Thranduil nodded.

“Early this night, a troop of humans entered one of our places.” He looked up over her head, as if he could see something she couldn’t. “And we marked one of their own. I would like him retrieved.” Thranduil looked down and smiled.

“And what do you intend to do with him?” Tauriel asked. Thranduil shrugged.

“I do not know.” He said. “Mostly I want him to show those hunters that we still have power here.” Tauriel held her tongue and nodded.

“My best are out at this time, My Lord,” Tauriel said. “Allow them time to return and I shall send them out.” Thranduil nodded.

“Just see that it is done,”

“Is that all sir?”

“It is,” He said and Tauriel bowed again and turned to leave. “Tauriel.”

She stopped but did not turn. “Yes?” It was silent for a long while, until Tauriel felt a hand on her shoulder and she looked to see her king standing next to her.

“Take care, my dear, I would hate for something to happen to you.” He said quietly and she met his eyes.

“Of course My Lord.” And she left, retracing her steps over the rooting logs.


	2. Down The Glen Tramp Little Men

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to post this chapter last week but I ran out of time and got busy again, so oops. But here it is, with new characters, sex and everything you could ask for :)
> 
> Sorry for grammar and spelling, I tried to fix it all.

Kíli’s skin wasn’t cold anymore when Fíli took his hand and that was good. His brother was still pale, paler then was healthy, but the pallor of death wasn’t upon him. Kíli’s eyelids fluttered briefly and then closed again, too weak to open them and wake up. Fíli didn’t smile, his face was a straight tight mask, and his eyes were dark. He had a brief fleeting thought of what would happen to him if his brother did die, but the thought was pushed away, because it brought awful images of black crows and wondering in lonely woods with cold winds and dead stars.

“I’m leading a patrol tonight.” Fíli whispered, leaning close to his brother and glancing over to his mother, sitting in a stiff wooden chair from the kitchen, watching her shoulder stiffen at his words. “I’m taking Bofur and Balin and Nori, and we’re going to watch the Glen for activity. It should be pretty easy.” Fíli glanced to his mother again. “I should get going.” He squeezed Kíli’s hand again. “Don’t you dare go anywhere, okay?”

Fíli nodded to himself and stood, pulling on the bottom of his shirt before crossing to his side of the room and grabbing a hoodie and a gun. He checked the gun, and pushed it down the back of his pants, very aware of his mother’s gaze as he crossed to the closet and pulled out a box of red ribbons. He quickly tied one around his wrist and onto the zipper pull of his hoodie. Keeping his back to his mother, he pulled his hair back into a ponytail, rubber banding it in place, and tying another red ribbon around the rubber band. He swallowed and moved to his bed, pulling open a duffle bag and retrieved a shotgun. Quickly he popped the shells out and grabbed new ones with iron rounds, loading the gun in silence. He knelt, stuffing silver daggers into his boots. Fíli could hear his mother breathing and watching him, and it made his mouth fill with spit. He grabbed threw a few unnecessary things in the bag onto his bed and grabbed it, planning to make for the door as fast as he could.

“Come home.” His mother said as he walked out the door and Fíli stopped and knocked his hand against the frame. He breathed a sigh of relief. He had been afraid she would yell at him for going out, for being reckless.

“I will.” He said and offered her a cocksure grin. Dis pursed her lips and rolled her eyes are him. Fíli crossed quickly to his mother and kissed her on the cheek, squeezing her hand. He left then, turning down the hall and thundering down the stairs. He turned at the bottom and crossed into the library. Fíli glanced around, at the half finished job he’d left, and exited through another door at the end of the library, coming out into a hall with a slopping roof from the stairs. The walls in this part of the house were still papered with red wallpaper, and the floors were still wood. Their house was incredibly big, and most of the Durin line lived in it, hunting together. The important of family had never been lost of Fíli; he understood why his family all lived together, in one giant dysfunctional unit. It went back to the days of the ancients, where there were bands of warriors who lived and loved together. It made quicker, better fighting warriors, who fought to protect the man, or woman, next to them, because they had an emotional connection.

Fíli could also see the flaws of having strong emotions during battle. Emotion made you weak and not only weak but vulnerable. Family was their strength and it was also their all encumbering weakness.

Fíli wrapped his knuckles quickly against Nori’s door, dropping his head and tilting it to the side. Nori’s door was considerably plain, just simple and hollow core, except for the sigh that hung crookedly from the wood. It was the front cover to an exit sign from a hotel, nicked from the hallway during a job. Fíli remembered when Dori had discovered Nori’s new stolen treasure, and had demanded that he return it. Instead, Nori had taken the drill and hung it up on his door, in defiance to his brother.

Fíli could hear noises from inside the room accompanied with loud music, and he swallowed quickly, rising his head as the door opened. Nori blinked at him and looked Fíli up and down.

“Yeah?” He said. “I’m a bit busy.”

“Yeah.” Fíli said. “I uh, I can see that. But I need you to get ready; you’re on a patrol at the Glen tonight.” Nori groaned and leaned his head against the doorframe.

“But-”                            

“Thorin’s orders.” Fíli said quickly. Nori nodded and turned back. “Oh and Nori?” the other glanced up and Fíli grinned. “Best put some pants on.” Fíli winked and told Nori to meet him in the hall in fifteen. Once that was finished and the door was closed again, Fíli let out a breath and leaned against the opposite wall, carefully between the mirrors on the wall, to wait for Nori. He looked around the big old house, watching dust float from a corner as someone walked around heatedly upstairs. There was always some kind of commotion going on in the house, personal family fights or arguments about ethics, loud discussions or serious injuries left the house in a state of constant conflict. Sometimes the conflicts were resolved, but more often than not they weren’t, simply forgotten or postponed, shirted around in favor of amity. Fíli swallowed when he remembered his own unresolved conflicts, shouting matches that leveled others’ arguments, screaming at his uncle like raised voices would fix something, but instead they just wrecked things and tore the leaves form trees like a hurricane.

Fíli glanced up as Nori’s door opened and a woman stepped out, dressed in barely any clothing at all with thick red hair that fell loosely around her shoulders. The woman glanced up from her purse, to Fíli, smirked at him and winking before wobbling off down the hall on tall heels. Fíli nodded to her as she smiled and then crossed the Nori’s door, pushing it open and entering. Nori’s room was crowded with thing’s he’d picked up from all around the world, whether legal or illegally varied on a case to case basis. Nori had traveled much of his younger life, coming home only when he’d heard of his mother’s death, and the evidence of that worldly type of living was all around. His rugs were from one place, while the bedframe from another. He’d picked up this from there and that from where again? Those were from the south, and the bed was from someplace north He had an Oliphant tusk and strings of trade beads, oil lamps and horsehair blankets, the sorts of things people ogled over in museums and in photos.

Fíli made sure to watch the wrinkles in the rugs as he crossed the room, leaning as against the bedpost as Nori dressed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Nori glanced behind himself to see who’d come in and turned away again without a word when he saw it was Fíli.

“Sorry.” Fíli said as Nori turned to open a cabinet, his shirt rumpled and his pants still unbuttoned. The cabinet was from a furniture store in town and housed Nori’s weapons which were of mixed ethnicities as well. “I hate to ruin your night of thoughtless fun.”

Nori shrugged. “Don’t worry. You save me a good bit of money I suspect,” Nori grinned and collected a few guns from the cabinet. “Fey business then?” He asked and Fíli nodded.

“Yeah,” he responded. “At least it’s not vampires.” Nori nodded with raised eyebrows.

“Agreed, that’s always messy.” He nodded toward the door and Fíli turned walking out before the other, waiting patiently while Nori locked the door to his room. “Who else is out with us?”

“Bofur and Balin,” Fíli said. “Speaking of I have to go get the old man.”

“Old man?” A voice said behind them, and Fíli turned to watch Balin walk down the hallway, already dressed and armed. “Speak for yourself boy.” Fíli grinned as Balin fell in to step alongside them. They walked in silence until the foyer, where Bofur was already standing, in his suede jacket, conversing lightly with Ori. Bofur looked up when they entered and he grinned at Fíli. Fíli tried very hard to smile his best, but his gaze kept pulling its way toward the mess of the table they’d laid his brother on. Ink was still spilt and paper was still scattered over the floor, like dark spots on an x-ray, alluding to something poisonous and deadly. Fíli swallowed as he reached Bofur’s side. He longed to reach out and take Bofur’s hand, to relish in the warm of the other, of the earthy, strong part of Bofur to just take him and hold him, but instead he put his shoulders back and forgot about his brother bleeding in his bed.

As Fíli reached for the car keys in his pocket, he found that they were missing. Confused he searched his other pockets until looking up and scowling at Nori who held the keys up to him triumphantly.  

“What are you doing?’ Fíli said looking back at Nori. Nori grinned and shook his hand to make the keys shake. “Nori, give me the keys.” Nori was still grinning, smirking like some kind of deviant, provokingly.

“Is there a problem?” Thorin asked from the stairs, arms crossed, eyebrows raised, surveying his bristling nephew. Fíli shook his head and said that everything was fine. “Good,” Thorin said reaching into the pocket of his jacket and throwing a jangling ring of keys to Fíli. Fíli caught them easily in his left hand, glancing down at the keys with raised eyebrows.

“Well,” Thorin said, smiling. “Go on then.” Fíli glanced up at his uncle and then at the keys in his hand again.

“Straight up?” He asked. “You’re going to let me take your car?” Thorin shrugged and turned to walk back up the stairs.

“Just don’t touch the stereo. And bring her back in one piece.” He said as he retreated up the stairs, swaying like a lion. Fíli grinned and held the keys out for Nori to see. Nori scowled and tried to grab the keys from him. Fíli pulled his arm back, keeping the keys out of Nori’s reach.

“Let’s go, bitch.” Fíli said leaning against the screen door and opening it at the same time, stumbling out into the night. The night was cold, and snow drifted into the porch. Someone was going to have to sweep the stairs to the porch off and the entire drive too, probably. That someone was, without a doubt, going to be Fíli.

Fíli led them to his uncle’s car, parked in the yard, next to his mother’s truck and his own little blue car. The house looked like there was a perpetual partying going on, from the amount of cars parked along the circle drive leading to the house. Everyone in the house had their own car, with the exception of Kíli and Ori, and they were parked haphazardly around the house, like someone threw a handful of beans on the ground and the cars grew up out of the dirt.

He slid into the sleek black car and took a deep breath as he ran his hands over the steering wheel. He’d grown up in his uncle’s car, riding in the back with Kíli, while his mother rode shotgun with an actual shotgun across her knee. He glanced up as the passenger door shut and Balin slid into the seat across from him, Bofur and Nori sitting in the back after they dumped their bags into the trunk. Fíli nodded to himself and put the keys into the ignition, grinning as the car purred to life. He and his brother had stolen Thorin’s car once, for a joyride, and had had the time of their life.

As he turned the car on the radio started up, clicking in the cold, an old Violent Femmes tape playing through the speakers that needed to be replaced. Fíli bobbed his head to the rhythm, biting his lip, and put the car into reverse, backing out on to the drive before taking off in the blaze of gravel.

*

Literally nothing had happened. It had been the most boring patrol of Fíli’s life. In fact it might have been the most boring patrol of everyone’s lives. They had pulled up and parked on Dulac Drive, hiking the winding trail through the hills to the Glen, watching for stray sod and other things in the night. The Glen was a fantastically green stretch of grass that carpeted a crater in the earth, the smallest of hills rising from the middle of it. They had lain on their stomachs in the shadows, looking down into the crater, watching breezes blow the brilliant yellow flowers until the sun had peaked over the tops of the trees. Nori had fallen asleep and Fíli and Bofur had contemplated rolling him into the Glen just to have something to do, but Balin had glared. The grass rolled on like a sea in front of them, never ending like the patrol seemed to be, waving green flag in the dead of winter, the tiniest of flowers peeking out to stare at them.

So they returned tried and weary and sore with grimy cloths to their home, dumping their bags in the entry way. Balin turned to the kitchen wondering in for coffee with Gloin and Dori, while Fíli thought that if he drank coffee now he might throw up. Nori departed in the other direction, to find his bed for a few moment of rest before he went for a run. Fíli stumbled up the stairs, leaning heavily on the banister, Bofur walking alongside him.

“I need to report to Thorin.” Fíli said, yawning and rubbing his face. He blinked and looked around. “Then I should sleep. No doubt Ma’ll have me working all day tomorrow.”

“Yah mean taday?” Bofur grinned and Fíli smiled bumping his shoulder into Bofur’s. “Maybe yah shouldn’t sleep in there with yer brother.” Fíli glanced up the hall toward his bed and he nodded.

“You’re probably right. Ma’s probably in there now too. I don’t want to wake her. She hasn’t slept all night I’m sure.” Fíli glanced at Bofur and he caught Bofur’s own expression. “Can I sleep in your bed tonight?” Bofur hesitated, running his eyes up and down Fíli’s body, eyeing the muddy shirt.

“I dunno, lad.” Bofur said reaching up to wipe a bit of grime off Fíli’s cheek. “Yer really quite filthy.” Fíli laughed and leaned back against the wall, sitting lightly on the banister, one hand bracing himself on it while the other hooked itself into Bofur’s pocket.

“Oh and you’re not?” He grinned tugging Bofur forward. “Bullshit. You’re filthier than me.” Bofur laughed quietly and leaned forward to kiss Fíli lightly. Fíli closed his eyes and opened his mouth under Bofur’s letting Bofur’s tongue into the cavity. They kissed slowly, lazily, as members of the house moved around them, scoffing at the pair, until Fíli broke off with a grunt, like someone had punched him. Bofur pulled back, bringing his hands up to stroke Fíli’s face.

“Lad? Fíli?” Bofur looked concerned and Fíli brushed him off. “What’s the matter, do you need something?”

“I need the bliss of nothingness.” Fíli said, leaning forward to rest his hand on Bofur’s shoulder. “I need to be numb. I need Kíli to be better, and I need to stop worrying about him right now.” Bofur ran his hand over Fíli’s back, nodding slightly. “I need to not feel this pain in my chest.” Fíli whispered. “I need you to fuck me until I see stars and I can’t think of anything else.” Fíli pulled back and look at Bofur, his mouth tight and pained.

“I can do that.” Bofur said, kissing his forehead. “Go give Thorin your report and come to my room yeah?” Fíli smiled and closed his eyes, pressing his lips to Bofur’s scruffy cheek.

“Thank you.” He sighed moving to stand, running a hand through his hair “I guess I should go find Thorin.”

“You won’t have to look very far.”

Fili and Bofur glanced up, Fili’s hand tightening anxiously into Bofur’s, to watch Thorin come down a few steps. Thorin smiled, a sad, tired smile, and Fili noticed he was still wearing his cloths from the previous day. Fili took a step toward his uncle, pushing his shoulders back and his chin up.

“Report?” Thorin asked, glancing Fili up and down.

“Nothing, Uncle, The Glen was quiet all night.” Fili said. “I feel we might be fretting over nothing.” Thorin nodded and clasped his hand behind his back, walking down the rest of the stairs very slowly.

“I feel that you might be right,” Thorin said, nearly to the bottom. “But I also fear that we’re in for quite a ride.” He turned back to them and smiled tightly. “Thank you, Fili, for the report. You’re dismissed.” Fili nodded and took Bofur’s hand, beginning to lead him up the stairs.

“Oh. Bofur,” Thorin called and the pair of them paused.

“Yes?” Bofur said with a swallow. His cheeks were red and he was certainly afraid that Thorin had heard of his intentions toward his nephew in the impending future. Thorin smirked.

“I quite liked that article in the paper you submitted,” Thorin said, still smirking. “About the plastic bags.” Bofur laughed and nodded.

“Thank yah,” He said and inclined his head. “Yer Mister Baggins was very helpful in gettin’ that published.” Thorin smiled a little differently and nodded turning away and wondering into the kitchen. Bofur breathed a sigh of relief, but his mouth was soon occupied otherwise by Fili’s as the younger dug him up the rest of the stairs and toward his bedroom.

Bofur’s room was what used to be the old attic, before he’d moved in up there. They still had what was called the ‘top attic’ which was situated at the tip top of the steeple like section at the very front of the house and all of the things in the original attic had been moved there when Bofur had taken the long narrow room at the top of the house. Dis had told him he could have a real bedroom, like his brother and cousin (who shared a room), but Bofur refused, smiled and said that the dusty room fit him fine. Fili wished, when he bumped his head on the low ceiling beams, that Bofur had taken a real bedroom.

They found their way into the low door easily, careful not to hit their heads, and Fili pushed Bofur up against the wall swiftly, running eager hand through Bofur’s short hair and under his shirt. Fíli’s mouth was hot and wet and he sucked on the skin of Bofur’s chest after he pulled Bofur out of his t-shirt and flannel. Fíli was quite proud that he could take the flannel and the t-shirt off at once.

“Lad.” Bofur said, breathlessly as Fíli pulled off his own nasty shirt, throwing it to the wood floor. “Slow down, yer gonna give yerself whiplash.” Fíli laughed and press his lips to Bofur’s neck breathing deeply.

“I told you,” He said. “I need –”

“I know.” Bofur said stopping Fíli and bringing his face up to his own. “I know.” He said again, pushing hair back out of Fíli’s face. Bofur pressed his lips to Fíli’s softly and pushed the boy backwards toward the bed. Fíli grabbed the front of Bofur’s shirt and dragged him across the floor, practically throwing him down on to the bed before straddling to the other and kissing him greedily.

“Was it just me,” Bofur said, against Fíli’s hot mouth. “Or was your uncle surprisingly relaxed?” Fíli grunted and Bofur could feel the bulge in his jeans.

“He probably got laid.” Fíli said sitting back to undo Bofur’s jeans. “Which is what I’d like to have happen to me.” He added with the slightest of glares toward Bofur. Bofur laughed and rolled him over, Fíli’s head hitting the pillows heavily. His cheeks were red and flushed and Bofur kissed them, light fluttering kisses like the light that fell over fields of wheat, golden in the sun and rippling like water. Fíli moaned at Bofur’s kisses and at his hands like the softest breeze or the sweetest fruit. They were white and gold halls, earthen homes in the dirt, fresh breath and rain on the mountains when they were together.

Bofur’s hands were hot and quick against Fíli’s skin, flushing it in splotching patches that the boy thought were unbecoming, but Bofur kissed the flushed skin and Fíli keened, bit his lips until they were swollen and Bofur the soft sounds that left them. Fíli’s hands scrambled for purchase on Bofur’s bare shoulders, pulling on Bofur’s hair as their hips met in a graceless scramble.

The bed squeaked and Fíli knew there were marks in the hardwood from the legs, just like he knew that his gut felt tight and that in the spring the cherry trees on the estate would bloom. His breath was hot and Bofur’s touches were still feather light and bruising. He thought of nothing but the feel of skin on skin and Bofur buried deep, deep, inside him, until he was choking on something deep inside his chest and his body shook with pleasure.

Afterwards, after they were clean and there was light creeping in through the curtains, Bofur slept, his mouth open and his chest rising and falling slowly. Fíli watched him; his legs curled up under him, sitting up, his back curved with his elbows on his knees. Quietly he rose, pushing the blankets and sheets away and planting his feet firmly on the hardwood. He dressed in his old cloths quietly. He didn’t want Bofur to wake, so he crept across the floor, and out the door. Bofur would have made him stay, told him to sleep, and Fíli would have restlessly kicked out, too nervous to sleep. So instead he snuck out, with his jeans unbuttoned and his shirt ruffled with his sweater in his hand.

The house was loud again, now that it wasn’t too early, alive with talk. Fíli crept downstairs, still buzzing with the numbness of sex, skipping as he walked down the stairs, doing up his pants and straightening his shirt, holding his hoodie under his chin. He knocked lightly on his own bedroom door and opened it with a creaking, stepping inside quickly. The room was warm and smelt vaguely of soap trying to cover up the blood from Kíli’s wounds. Bofur had told him that the room smelt like sandalwood and boys, but now it just stunk like clean sheets. Fíli’s bed was pushed against the right wall, with messy bedding. Their clothing was spilling out of the closet, because their shared mostly everything, and Kíli’s side was the room was trashed, a reckless smear of his life wiped all over that side, like painting on pants, clothing thrown over the bed and old dishes stacked up, while Fíli’s was slightly more organized, stacks of books and CDs and old school work sitting precariously on the carpet.

Their mother was still in the room, attempting to clean the room it seemed, bags under her eyes. Fíli sighed and walked over to her, dropping his boots by the door.

“Ma,” He said quietly, putting his hand on her shoulder. “You need to sleep.” Dis looked up, plates and trash in her hands. Dis sighed as he took the trash from her.

“I know,” she said taking her hair down and putting it back up into a messy bun. “I just…” She glanced back at his brother, sleeping, cold and pale. Fíli nodded and led her out of the room.

“It’s gonna be okay.” He said, “He’ll be alright.” Dis nodded and hugged her other son tightly, pressing her face to his chest. When Fíli was a child he’d never imagined being taller than his mother, but here he was, at least five inches taller than her.

“I’m glad you have Bofur,” she whispered and Fíli swallowed, his cheeks flushing. “I think a nap will do me good.” She decided and backed up, heading toward her own room. “You be good, alright?” Fíli nodded and tried to smile.

“Yeah, ma, me too.” He nodded as she walked off down the hall and he slipped back in to the room. His brother was still sleeping and Fíli sat in the chair his mother had vacated. He reached out, across the bed and took his brother’s hand, the sunlight from the window catching on the edge of the open scissors above the bed.

“Hey.” He said watching his brother’s chest rise and fall. “Kíli.” His brother spelt on, unstirring. Fíli’s brow furrowed and he leaned closer to his brother. “Kíli.” He said the name louder this time, but his brother just slept, his eyelashes brushing the tops of his cheeks. Fíli rose, his heart beating hard in his chest.

“Kíli!” He said reaching out and shaking his brother’s shoulders. “Kíli!” His throat felt tight, burned like fire and smoke, and his eyes stung. Fíli had felt panic before, on an almost day to day basis, but never before had it been so _frightening_. It was dark halls and broken mirrors, murky water, raw meat, white bandages and flies.

“Ow, oh god, what?”

Fíli stopped and watched as his brother sat up, blinking and pushing away from his biting hands. Kíli squinted up and Fíli breathed again before hugging his brother tightly to his chest.

“Fíli, what the fuck?” Kíli grunted, but Fíli only hugged him tighter. “Can you get off me? I can’t breathe.”

“Shh.” Fíli said, “I thought you were… dead… or... or something.”

“Well I’ll be dead if you don’t let _go_.” Kíli finally pushed Fíli off and sat up properly in bed, glaring at his brother and lifting his shirt to check the bandages. “You’re such a dick.” Kíli said and Fíli laughed, relieved and sat back in the chair next to the bed, reaching out to ruffle his brother’s hair. Kíli swatted his hand away.

“Whatever.” Fíli grinned and closed his eyes briefly, leaning back in the chair. “You love me.”

“I hate you is more actuate.” Kíli said, throwing a pillow at his brother. Fíli just laughed.

*

Finally he pulled into a motel, after long, long hours, his car sputtering in the cold. He glanced into the rearview mirror, looking at his children in the backseat, sleeping peacefully in a pile on the leather seats. He sighed and stroked his mustache before reaching over and waking the girl in the passenger seat.

“Sigrid.” Bard said quietly, rousing her lightly.

“Da?” Her voice was horse and thick with sleep, “Are we here?”

“Yeah.” Bard said, “I’m going to go get us a room okay? Stay here.” Sigrid nodded and sat up straighter, reaching out to warm her hands on the heater vents. Bard left the car on, and pushed the door open quickly closing it quickly as well to cut the cold air that entered the car. The wind was cold and cut through his leather coat, the wind pulling at his hair. There was sun creeping over the edges of the horizon, pink fingers pulling at grey clouds. Bard ran quickly into the lobby of the seedy motel, his boots tracking snow onto the welcome mats. He smiled at the man behind the counter.

“Hi.” He said his brow furrowing, “I uh… I need a room. With two bed, please.” The man nodded and his keyboard clanked as he worked on his computer. Bard pulled out a beat warn leather wallet and sorted through the credit cards stuffed inside.

“Name?” The man asked.

“O’Neal.” Bard said pulling a card out. “Jacob O’Neal.” The man nodded and typed heavily.

“Are you in Ered Luin for vacation?” He asked. Bard looked at the name tag pinned to his red vest. _Conner_.

“Uh, no,” Bard said. “Business.” The man nodded again and looked at his computer screen.

“The skiing here is fantastic.” He said and Bard nodded and resisted rolling his eyes. The man smiled and handed Bard two of the plastic keycards and Bard smiled in thanks, tightly, before turning and jumping back into his car, almost sliding in the ice. His children were still asleep, numb to the world. Their room was far from the lobby, and had a parking place right out in front which Bard was glad for. He shut the car off and woke his children, carrying Tilda inside while Sigrid and Bain stumbled blinding in, and passed out on one of the bed immediately, leaving their father to move their luggage inside. Bard did so without complain, dragging their bags in from the cold before curling up to sleep on top the covers of one of the beds. He didn’t sleep long, before his was roused by Bain and Tilda, arguing and over something. As soon as they spotted that their father was up they demanded that he settle the argument, which he was far too tired to understand. Sigrid was there with coffee, and Bard thanked his daughter before standing and starting to sort through the papers and articles he’d brought in last night.

“What is it?” Bain asked, sitting at the table as Sigrid went out to find groceries for breakfast. Bard looked up from the missing persons flyers and set his coffee down.

“Dunno yet.” He said and handed them over to his son. “See what you can make of it. I’ll give you ten bucks if you figure it out before your sister.” Bain grinned and looked over the articles.

“Is this was you and Ma did?” Bain asked and Bard froze, for the briefest of seconded, before moving to pin papers to the wall. “Did you hunt monsters with her too?”

“Aye.” Bard nodded. “We did.”


	3. Found Them No More, but Dwindled and Grew Grey

Bard actually looked good in a suit, which seemed to surprise his children, but it reminded him of the handful of times he’s had to wear one for occasions that weren't work related. A wedding and a funeral. Bard swallowed as he adjusted the tie around his neck, smoothing the crisp white shirt under his hands and them his hair, before turning and stepping out of the bathroom. Sigrid was busy fussing over her sister’s jumper when Bard stepped out, asking again and again if Tilda had her lunch.

“Yeees, Siggy,” Tilda whined. “I have it, leave me alooone.” Sigrid sighed and stood, adjusting her own jumper as Tilda shot out from around her and latched herself to their father’s waist in a tight hug. Bard smiled and put his hand on her shoulder. Bain was sitting at the table, with the missing person’s flyers in front of him, chewing absently on a Pop Tart, only halfway dressed, with one barefoot tapping out a rhythm.

“You look good, Da,” Tilda said, smiling widely. Bard grinned and ruffled her hair.

“So do you,” he said, “I like this jumper.” Tilda grinned wider and Sigrid bustled past Bard. “Go on and get your things. Bain, come on, put the other sock on, we need to go.” Bain grumbled and bent to pull his sock on, holding the Pop Tart between his teeth. Their hotel room was fairly large, two double beds and a table and kitchenette with a sink and microwave, larger than the last one, with better wallpaper. They were staying at the _STAR COLLISION INN_ , a slouching roadside motel that had a flickering neon sign, proclaiming that it had plenty of vacancies, with a new banner under it, that stated they now had Free WiFi and coffee. The rooms were papered with blue and white paper, while the bedding was blue and white as well, the furniture was the cardboard kind that wobbled dangerously, and the sink sputtered when it was first turned on.

“Where are our papers?” Sigrid asked, as Bain searched for his boots and Tilda tugged on her coat. Bard looked up and didn’t understand what his daughter was asking for a moment before understanding and nodded. He searched through the stacks of papers on the table, before pulling out a fold marked ‘school’ in his scratchy hand writing.

“Here,” He said handing the folder over. Sigrid nodded, flipping through it with dark varnished nails. “Right, so I’ll take Tilda in and get her all squared away, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Sigrid nodded, “And then you’re going to investigate the werewolves, right?” Bard nodded, pulling on his coat, the dress coat he wore with his suits, not the well-worn canvas and fleece one sitting on the chair. Sigrid could see the bulge on his side where his gun sat.

“Go on,” He said, motioning to his children. “Lets’ go, let’s go.”

“Da,” Sigrid said as her siblings rushed out into the cold, quickly jumping into the Impala in the parking lot. Bard looked up, locking the hotel door and testing the knob just to be safe. “You probably don’t want to take a gun into an elementary school,”

“Oh, right.” He said and grinned. “What would I do without you?” Sigrid smiled as he kissed her on the forward, walking around the driver’s door. “Will you—”

“Pick up Tilda about school,” Sigrid said “Got it. Da…”

“Yeah?” Bard said as he opened the door.

“Be careful.”

He smiled again and promised he would before climbing into the car and Sigrid found that her brother was already sitting in the passenger seat with a smug look on his face. Sigrid frowned as Bain stuck his tongue out, the car roaring to life in the cold, exhaust mixing with the fog. Sigrid rolled her eyes and slammed her hand on the window, before huffing and climbing into the backseat of the Impala.

*

There was the clink of ceramics and Fili looked up from his textbook, eyeing the mug sitting before him. It smelt thickly of herbs, and he wrinkled his nose. He glanced up, chewing the edge of his lip, with his pen posed in his left hand and the fingers of his right picking at the pages of the book. His mother stood next to him at the table, with her thick hair pinned back.

“Will you take that up to your brother?” she asked, setting a saucer down next to the mug. “He needs to drink and I can’t seem to manage it.” Fili nodded, reaching up to pull his reading glasses off, setting them on the book.

“Maybe he’d drink it if it didn’t smell like manure.” He wrinkled his nose as he stood, catching another whiff of the drink. His mother laughed as she walked away from him, toward the kitchen counter. Fili had retreated to the kitchen table in an attempt to struggle through a chapter of his musical theory textbook, after neglecting it for too, too long, but then, a break was welcomed.

“Don’t let your uncle see that book,” his mother chided as she bent to retrieve a casserole dish from the lower cabinet. Fili sighed as he gathered up his things, closing the book, which he had covered in brown paper, to hide the title from his uncle. “I know.” Dis said quietly, tearing through the paper wrapping on a package of chicken from the butcher. “But you know how he his.” Fili nodded.

Thorin was far from pleased with Fili’s decision to pursue higher education, thinking it a waste of time, effort, and money, because, he reasoned, Fili was needed here, in this house saving people and killing things. So Fili bought the textbooks required for his degree and worked his way slowly through them, taking classes online in his time between work at the family garage and hunting monsters, hiding his books and his work. There was never any doubt that Thorin knen about it, because Thorin would found out about most things (big mouths, nosy dispositions, and thin walls), and he choose to ignore it, like he did with all less than ideal things about his family, but the sight of the textbooks would enrage him and the pair would have shouting matches that would silence the house.

“At least he doesn’t know about my decision to join the circus yet.” Fili said, gathering up his books and the tea for his brother.

“Oh?” Dis asked, raising an eyebrow. “You’re joining the circus? Did you decide that music history wasn’t impractical enough?” Fili laughed and leaned against the counter.

“Basically.” Fili said. “I gotta mix up my life choices, make sure he’s not disappointed in me for just one thing.” Dis rolled her eyes and looked to her son, searching his face briefly.

“He’s not disappointed in you.” She said and turned back to the chicken. “If anything he should be disappointed in _me_ , but no matter, I do not live for my brother.” She looked at the tea in his hands. “Go! Take that to your brother before it loses it’s warmth.” Fili grinned and kissed her cheek. He didn’t have to bend down to do so, like his brother.

“Yes ma’am!” He exclaimed and she swatted at him, scowling and saying ‘Ma’am made her feel old.’ Fili laughed and jumped up the stairs, taking them quickly, not minding if he split a bit of the tea, his brother would thank him for that. He knocked quietly on the slightly ajar door before pushing it open with his foot and entering.

“Better watch out, I brought tea.” Fili said grinning at his brother propped up in bed, still pale and cold. Kili glared and set his head back against the pillows, tossing the comic he was reading aside. “Don’t look so miserable, I also brought Introduction to Musical Theory,” Fili said setting the tea down and holding up one of his books. “ _And_ History of Music in the Blue Mountains,” Fili grinned and sat down in the chair next to Kili’s bed. Kili groaned and glared at the mug of tea. He looked worse for the wear, with dark circles under his eyes and sharp, quick movements like a cat.

“Come now,” Fili said, “You have to eat.”

“I don’t want to eat.” Kili said picking at his blankets. Fili rolled his eyes.

“Are you twelve?” He asked. “You have to eat, or you won’t get better. Besides I’m going to read to you. So, theory or history? Or I could dig out my art history book, I know you like that one. I also have my Lit book; I could read you some of the Rossetti guy’s poetry.” Fili bent over, balancing his books on his knees as his brother looked unhappily upon him.

“I don’t want you to read to me.” Kili said as Fili straightened up, frowning

“But you ask me to read to you all the time.” Fili said, raking a hand through his hair. “But that’s okay, I don’t need to read, we can just chat I suppose.” The curtains in the room were drawn, and the light from the ceiling light was too bright. Fili’d been sleeping mostly in Bofur’s room, to afford his brother peace in the nights.

“I don’t want to _chat_.” Kili said, his brows low over his eyes, scowling at his brother.

“Fine, jeez,” Fili said eyeing his brother and standing, “Whatever. Do you at least mind if I stay here? I need a place to read—”

“ _Yes_ , I mind.” Kili spat, up at his older sibling. “I fucking mind, okay?” Fili took a step back, tripping over the legs of the chair, giving his brother space like a caged animal.

“Whoa, okay,” Fili said, running a hand through his hair again. “Sorry, man. What is wrong?”

“Wrong? Why would you _care_ what’s wrong with me?” Kili asked, crossing his arms. Fili gave him a look.

“Because, perhaps, you’re my brother?” Fili said, unable to keep the annoyance out of his voice. Kili snorted, as if his brother’s statement was rubbish. It wasn’t as though they’d never fought before, they fought occasionally, over dumb things, but he’d never had his brother accuse him of not caring.

“Yes, brothers,” He said, “Is that why you elect to spend nights away from me? Is that why I am left alone like a plague victim? Why you stay in Bofur’s room at night? Because we are brothers?”

“What in the _world_ are you on about?!” Fili shouted, voice raising to match his brother’s. “I’m been staying away from the room because I was told it was best if you had peace and quiet at night. I’ve been working nonstop since your accident, because I picked up _your_ shifts at the garage as well as _your_ patrol shifts!”

“Accident.” Kili scoffed again. “As if I’m a child! I am not! And I am tired of being treated like one!”

“Who treats you like a child?” Fili said, motioning angrily to the house. “Would you rather I call it your ‘dumbass decision’? Is that better?!” Fili shook his head and bent to retrieve his books. “Never mind. I refuse to argue, especially with a _child_. Go back to sleep. You need it.” And Fili left, banging the door closed.

He huffed and rushed out of the house, breathing searing lungfulls of cold air, his books clutched tightly to his chest as he walked stiffly out into the driveway (which he had shoveled that morning), his feet crunching over gravel as Ori pulled up, over icy pavement, in his older brother’s Smart Car. Fili changed direction and headed toward the car, as Ori turned it off and climbed out of it.

“Fili?” Ori said, the keys in one hand, dressed in his sweater with purple mittens on, to protect himself against the cold. Ori had just only returned from his job at the library on campus, and his name tag was sticking out from under the bottom of his sweater.  “What’s going on?” He looked toward the house and then back at Fíli who was walking quickly, his cheeks flushed from the cold and his own obvious rage.

“Give me the keys.” Fíli said, demanding with his hand out, shaking slightly. “Ori, give me the keys.”

“What… Why?” Ori asked handing the keys over to the older man. Ori was just out of high school, still in that transitional period between high school and college and Fíli felt jealous of Ori because of it. Dori was insisting that his little brother go off to art school and leave all of this behind him, at least for a time, while Fíli had to hide his school books and pretend he wasn’t suffocating himself here.

“Get in the car.” Fili said pointing to the passenger seat. Ori looked confused by Fili’s sudden demands and brandishing of keys that belonged to his older fussy brother.

“Did something happen? What’s going on? Fili?” Ori questioned incessantly, crossing around the car anyway as Fili slid into the driver’s seat. As he dumped his books into Ori’s lap Ori cast a skeptical look down at them. He glanced over to Fili as the other turned the car on and threw it into reverse. Fili’s face was flushed and his mouth was set in a hard line, turned down at the corners, like he was near tears. Ori looked away swallowing hard as Fili slammed his foot down on the accelerator quickly executing a K-turn and speeding out of the driveway in a blaze of gravel.

“Fili, where are we going?” Ori asked, putting on hand on the oh-shit handle on the door. Fili rolled down all the windows in the car, letting the icy window into the cab ripping at his thin shirt and Ori’s sweater. Ori gasped and grabbed at the dash, and his hat.

“Fili!” Ori squeaked, as Fili slammed the accelerator and sped off down the road toward town, but Fili only grunted around the cigarette he was trying to light in his mouth. Ori glanced around them, watching the landscape speed by, blurs like a painted canvas.

“I just need to get away.” Fili said finally and he glanced over at Ori with a grin. “The house was getting a little too loud. I hope you don’t mind too terribly.” Fili’s grin was a bit wicked and Ori grinned back leaning back in his seat as Fili leaned forward to turn the radio up. Loud music filled the cab and Ori remembered why he was friends with Fili. Fili was always the one who solved his problems with fun, with driving until he couldn’t anymore, dancing in the middle of his room in the night, one-biting giant donuts and screaming into the night. It was Fili that took him shooting for the first time, and it was Fili that taught him how to do fancy driving maneuvers, like in the movies.

“Here,” Fili said offering Ori his cigarette, which Ori took gratefully, inhaling and exhaling through his nose.

“What’s going on at the house?” Ori asked and Fili took the cigarette back, taking a drag of his own. It was cold. He shrugged.

“Kili’s just…” He shook his head and accelerated. “He accused me of not caring about him. Like. He has no fucking right to say anything like that, you know? I’ve risked my damn life for that kid, and he gets hurt and he gets all… I’ve _died_ for him. Died, Ori. I was dead for like two minutes once, did you know that?” Ori nodded, everyone knew about that, “For _him_. And then he goes off about how I don’t fucking care because… because I’m sleeping in Bofur’s room or something.” Fili grunted and took an exceptionally long drag of his cigarette and slammed his hand back down on the steering wheel. “I don’t get it.”

“Maybe he’d just feeling lonely?” Ori offered and Fili nodded.

“I know he is, but he doesn’t have to be an _asshole_ about it. I fucking hate my family sometimes, y’know?” He said and Ori nodded, taking the dwindling cigarette from Fili. “But… I don’t. I would die for them.”

“I know.” Ori said quietly. It was an unspoken fact of the house. You _would_ die for the rest of your family. It was that simple. There was nothing else, just that simple fact. Your family was whom you grew up with; they were stable and constant, always there. Always willing to die for _you_. Family was the strongest bond in the Durin name, it was a simple and unwritten thing, like air or food or water or whiskey. You could hate and damn your family, but you would always die for them.

They drove for a long time, past the middle school and the high school, big brick buildings, with trees and flag poles. The high school was now equipped with a six foot black iron fence around it’s property, as well as a flashing sign that blinked between the date and a message reading ‘GO ERED LUIN MINERS!’ and the temperature. Fili remembered long days spent there, and they pulled into the parking lot, in very the front, where the student pick up lane was. He’d been utter crap at school, and defiantly not for lack of trying. He’d tried his hardest, because he wanted to make Thorin proud. But Thorin wasn’t proud, not really, not because Fili had scored higher than a 62% on his math test. Thorin was only proud when Fili didn’t flunk his med tests with Oin, when he could rattle of the signs of a shape shifter at a moment’s notice. You didn’t get academic credit for the number of vamp fangs you brought home though. He’d had sleepless night, long nights, spent with the lamp light in the library spilling over his books, after hours of training, and he’d only barely pulled C’s and B–’s out of himself, not nearly good enough grade to please his own need of self-approval. His mother said he was too hard on himself, and his brother skated through, getting A’s like they were candy and sleep like it was trash, abundant and everywhere. Fili hadn’t understood it, but he hadn’t pressed it.

They stood smoking in the parking lot for nearly twenty minutes, the car on, loud music blasting until school was out and the parking lot was flooded with kids looking for their parents. Only then, in the heat of their arrogance at being away and free, they got into their car then and drove off, speeding out of the lot and heading toward town. Dis had already called Ori nearly three times and all three calls had been ignored.

“ _Everybody’s doin’ it, so why the hell should I?_ ” Fili mumbled along with the radio, tapping the steering wheel in time and taking a drag from his cigarette. He rolled his own so his fingers always smelt like tobacco, and kept them in a little silver case he’d found in the attic with his father’s name engraved on the outside. The song changed and the radio DJ announced that it was the last song the band had recorded together. It was softer, piano cords and drums, with lyrics about loss and pain, and Fili turned the music up louder.

“Your mum is calling again.” Ori said, “Should I answer yet?”

“Just a few more minutes.” Fili said, brushing ash that had fallen from his cigarette off his legs, driving with one hand as the offending cigarette hung between his lips. “I want to buy Kili a cake.” Ori nodded and ignored the call, setting his phone on the tiny dashboard and grinning along with Fili as they drove.

The phone rang again after about 10 more minutes, as the sun was setting, but they ignored it still, and let it vibrate away across the dashboard, singing along to the bad pop on the radio, pulling up to a bakery. Fili did his best to park not on the sidewalk, and they shuffled into the bakery, closing the door hurriedly against the chill wind. The bakery was small and toasty warm, even at the late hour. Fili and Ori grinned and leaned over the glass cases, greedily eyeing the soon to become day-olds. The jingling of the shop door, not interrupting the quiet of the shop, but changing it, brought the owner out into the front.

“We’re closing—” She said, whipping her hands on her apron, stopping and smiling at the boys. “Well, well, look who it is,” the owner of the shop was a family friend, if only because Bombur and her had a secret affair going on. She was a busty lady, shorter than Bilbo, and feistier than most. Ori said she was ‘edgy’ and Fili snorted.

“I want to buy a cake.” Fili said, leaning on the counter. She raised an eyebrow.

“No foreplay? No witty banter? That isn’t the Fili I know.” She said and leaned on the counter herself. “What’s the matter?” Fili shrugged. He wasn’t about to discuss family matters with the baker his boyfriend’s brother was banging. “Not Bofur?”

“Never Bofur.” Fili said, and that was true. He’d never fought with Bofur. Not like he fought with his family. Bofur understood not the push the bruises Fili didn’t want to talk about, and Fili liked that, and someday he’d tell Bofur everything. Just not today. Fili smirked at her and reached over to delicately swipe a bit of whipped cream off the top of a pie sitting on the counter with his finger tip. She watched him as he brought the finger toward her and dotting the top of both her breasts with the whipped cream.

“Enough foreplay for you?” He asked standing up. “I want to buy a cake. Also if you were closing you should lock your door.” She rolled her eyes and stood up as well, putting her hands on her hips.

“Do you actually have money?” She asked and Fili and he grinned.

“Maybe.”

She sighed and crossed her arms. “I’m trying to run a business, not feed the dispossessed.”

“Come on Marina,” Fili said. He’d perfected the his pitiful whining voice since he was three, and between it and his natural charm, he could get most people to do mostly anything for him. He had been a menace when he was a child, once he’d learned that with the right about of pouty lips he could get anything, from everyone except him mother, and now was no different. Marina sighed and relented, letting her arms drop to her sides in defeat.

“Someday I’ll learn to say no to you, boy,” She said as he headed toward the backroom. “What kind of cake? I have apple and carrot left over.”

“Apple.” Fili said leaning against the counter. “Just a little one. It’s just for Kili.” He grinned at Ori who smirked back and rolled his eyes. He stood by the door, with his arms crossed, fiddling with a loose thread on his scarf. Marina came back into the front, carrying a little round cake with her which she set on the counter to package.

“I heard about what happened with him.” She said as she put the little white box together around the cake. Fili nodded and sucked on his cheek, tapping the toe of his shoe on the tile. He’d left the house in his sneakers, which he’d quickly thrown on as he'd run out the door. “I hope he gets better.”

“Yeah.” He said quietly as Ori's phone began to ring. Ori ignored the call, and the shop was quiet for a moment before his phone buzzed again.

“It’s your mum.” Ori said holding the phone out. Fili took the phone from him as Marina tied the box up with red string. Always red. Fili slid the call bar across the screen and pressed the phone to his ear.

“Hey.” He said, smiling in thanks as he took the cake from Marina. She told them to be good. “I’m headed home now,”

 _“Where are you?”_ His mother said, but her voice sounded funny, like it was still her, but it was too high, or too tight.

“I’m at the bakery, why? What’s wrong?” Fili asked, holding the cake in one hand the opening to door with the other, holding the phone with his shoulder. The wind outside smelt like burning leaves and it whipped his hair around. He needed to cut it, it was impractical at this length, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it, he was attached to his hair by now.

 _“Something is wrong with your brother.”_ She said and Fili could hear voices in the background.

“What do you mean?” He asked stopping just outside the door, dead in his tracks. “What do you mean something is wrong with him?” The wind blew harder and he could barely hear that his mother was saying on the other line. “I’m coming home right now.”

*

Tauriel watched, with her hands clasped behind her back as the shadows passed by her, disrupting her hair slightly, her eyes trained on the King. He looked eager as the retrievers flickered and whispered before consolidating before the throne and dissipating again, leaving a shaky looking young man in their wake. Tauriel was curious, and curiosity was one of her sins, so she let herself look him over, as the King did the same.

The boy was nearly as tall as her, with long, lithe muscles, hidden under a baggy shirt and old sweat pants that were missing a pocket. His hair was long, hanging limply around his pale face, greasy like he hadn’t bathed in a few days. He was a fighter, Tauriel could see it in the muscles of his thighs, and his dark eyes that lingered on her in a way that made her quirk an otherwise passive eyebrow at him.

“What a creature.” Thranduil said from his throne, smiling in a way that made shivers crawl on mortal skin. “I had no idea we marked such a…” He let his words trail off as the boy looked around and Thranduil smiled again. “Tauriel–”

“Who the fuck are you?” The boy said looking up at Thranduil in a fearless kind of way that Tauriel had seen once in her soldiers, before The Fall. “Where the fuck am I?” The guards around the floor stiffened, taking up awful weapons and the boy stood from his knees and glared. Tauriel gripped her knife and glanced to Thranduil, who waved his hand to her.

“You,” Thranduil said, listlessly, like his only care in the world were the sparkling jewels on the soles of his shoes. “Are a guest in the Woodland Realm, _my_ realm, human,”

“And who are you?” The boy asked looking up at Thranduil. “The king of filth? The king of rust and dirt and the nasty things that live under the shed? The king of – ” Tauriel was behind the boy in an instant, quicker then she’d moved in years, with a knife at his throat, kicking his knees out so he had to kneel again.

“Quiet boy, you do not disrespect here,” she hissed at him, but her heart was not in the words, she did not care if her king was displeased at those words. Because they were _true_.

“A boy with fight!” Thranduil seemed overjoyed at this, and he leaned forward in his throne to inspect the boy with his one good eye. “I like this one. What is your name, boy?” The boy shut his lips tightly together in a line and tilted his chin up in defiance.

“Answer the king.” Tauriel whispered tightening her grip on the boy’s hair.

“No.” He said, and the word was like curse, spat with meaning, because you have to _mean it_ for a curse to take a strong hold. You have to _want_ to break and tear and rend bone. You have to _want_ pain, sadness, hurt.

Thranduil narrowed his eyes at the boy. “Fine.” He said it as harshly before motioning with his fingers.

“Come along, little boy,” Tauriel said, hauling the man to his feet as her guards crowded him, clapping manacles made of thorns around his wrists. “Until the king wants to play with you some more.” She shoved him, and his step faltered under him a little, his bare feet stumbling over the knurled walkways, ever present goblins snickering behind glass teeth as she prodded him in the soft flesh of his back. Tauriel glanced back to the throne, watching the king eat rotting grapes, before training her gaze just above the prisoner’s dark head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, you got through chapter one, so good on yah!
> 
> Thanks again for reading, and hopefully I'll get the next chapter up soon!
> 
> 8Tracks mix here: http://8tracks.com/adventurersinasgardia/we-must-not-look-at-goblin-men


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